Victores ad Occidentem
by I might just make it
Summary: An ancient empire born from blood and war have fallen into a slumber of peace and prosperity while forgetting what it means to be conquerors. Their gods forgive this slight and will restore their names by sending the son of one of the most powerful to set the kingdom into disarray to divide and conquer. He will be the harbinger of a new era and show them what war truly is. AU
1. Chapter 1: The Drifting Sea

_Chapter 1: The Drifting Sea_

**A/N: Hello all! I wrote this because there are very few stories that are Percy Jackson and A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones crossover but there a few good ones out there. This is one of many of my ideas for Percy Jackson crossovers. I don't know whether I should write those while working on this or solely focus on one project. I hope to finish this story within a year with at least a few hundred thousand words and move on to either a possible sequel or the next project. Call me overly ambitious (I know) but I grow tired when stories and sequels are forgotten, and I read actual novels all the time but dislike how the authors treat characters and the world. Thank you for reading and commenting. Also want to let you know that I ensure that every sentence written is important, that most if not all is actual relative story building or character building. Every aspect from colors to the weather reflects the ambiance and atmosphere of what is going on. It should be apparent I do not own jack shit. **

_Harrenhal 281 AC_

The warm spring breeze swept through the crowd reflecting the anticipation and excitement for the long-awaited event of the melee. Many knights and lords are present, eager to prove one's skill and prowess to all of the kingdom. Most never facing true combat or war where one is placed in one if not many life or death situations. Never having faced the plight of taking nature's greatest gift from another person, to see the life dim from their eyes as the sun would set leaving nothing but the cold and darkness. These competitors were playing at war to fulfill pride and earn gifts of coin and lust, except for the very few who knew what it truly means to steal the gift of life.

The continuous buzz of excitement mixed from voices hailing from all reaches of the kingdom, bar the Iron Islands, flourished into a resounding beat demanding the melee to begin. The last of the squires finished placing the armor on their knights and were ready to begin. The contenders hailed from all expanses of the continent with a multitude of different sets of armor, but one such man was especially different from all the others. The stranger was a taller man just shy of two meters, but it was his armor that drew the attention of everybody, especially the withered old man King Aerys II.

The helmet of the foreigner had the same basis as every other helm worn by soldiers, but the posterior segment reached down past the neck and had what resembled spikes. The front of the helm had an entire open section running a decent size section and expanded just beneath the eyes bordered with gold along the edges, however, there was no face to be seen, at least any natural face. In its place was a mask of a lifeless man made from material black as night meant to convey terror for any foolish enough to gaze upon it directly. To finish off the helmet, directly on top was what featured feathers or hair that was positioned transversely and was the same midnight black as the rest of the armor but also has stripes of a deep rich purple.

His pauldrons were pieces of segmented armor that lay on top of the chest piece with a purple tunic serving as the under garments. On the arms were vambraces that were comprised of a dark boiled leather on the underside and the same black steel that served as the protection. His legs were covered by simple greaves that have intricate designs of gold throughout the piece and on his feet were boots of what appeared to be gold. His lower torso and all the way to his thighs had some leather tassets but were otherwise bare, only the purple tunic covering his thighs. Even though the set did not reflect splendor or extravagance it depicted ruthlessness and intensity which was epitomized by the chest piece and the shield which prompted everyone's eyes.

The chest piece is segmented with an embossing of a terrifying creature that closely resembles a dragon similar to the Targaryen sigil. The reptilian head was eerily akin to the long extinct dragons but lacked wings. The creature was snarling and reached all corners of the armor, seeming to never end with large arms and hands with spikes adorning the spine. It gave the dreadful sense of a foreboding hopelessness with a pitiful end for anyone who dare to challenge it. The beast even reached onto the backside but remained partially hidden by the cape.

Resting just beneath the nape of his neck was a cape of an unrecognizable material, appearing as if it was woven from pure gold but seemed to be the soft plush fur of a deer. Serving to protect against the elements and as a trophy while adorned on top of his armor.

His shield was of unorthodox design, a rectangular shape rather than the common circular or oval that did not just serve as the basis in Westeros, but also Essos. Based on first glance it seemed to weigh at least a stone if not two leaving many to speculate that he is a man of unheard strength. Upon closer inspection, it was a half-cylinder shape that curved towards the wielder but from further away appeared flat. The palettes of the shield were the only piece on him that held any variety when compared to the rest. A sea of rich burgundy encompassed the golden embossed insignia of an eagle carrying two laurel wreaths above the letters _SPQR _while under a rising sun.

To the educated lords and ladies, they understood the representation of such colors, gold obvious to many, showcased the wealth and prestige, however the burgundy has a much deeper meaning that fewer of the crowd were privy to. The mixture of an intense blood red mixed with the rich wine color akin to the hue of the popular Arbor Gold signified the bridled power and immense ambition that lay dormant waiting for an opportunity.

Lastly his weapon that no man dared to wield for it was too short, the blade itself not even half a meter in length. The sword was wider than any other ever seen and only slightly narrowed itself towards the tip, it is reminiscent of the leaf shaped blades told in the old legends that were as plausible as the tales of the White Walkers and Children of the Forest. The hilt was of a base design for the sake of simplicity and efficiency but held an eerie glow that followed the edges of the blade. The steel was similar to the fabled Valyrian steel that had the same rippling and flowing effects that were made because of the composition of materials that lay within the blade, however the color of the blade resembled more of a glowing bronze. The flow of the ripples was etched in the color of blood which made the blade feel that it desired blood every time it was unsheathed.

The scabbard from which his sword was resting moments ago was just as exotic as every other component. It was not leather that was common for all men who wield blades to have but was what appeared to be a lacquered wood of some sort. It could not have been from any type of tree native to the continent even based on the treatment of the wood. It had intricate designs on it reminding him of his homeland and what him and his people had accomplished over others who drew their ire and challenged their power.

Apprehension and anxiety ran through crowd but none more so than the gaunt old monarch, for he saw the outsider as a conspirator and threat to his reign. He wished for nothing more than to burn the foreigner with a vat of wildfire, yet he remained cautious because of what appeared to be a dragon insignia on his chest. He discarded his inner thoughts for he had to start the event otherwise he will draw the indignation of the crowd and give reason to question his abilities as king.

Aerys stood tall and waved his hand in a shooing motion to commence the start of the melee, the fighters nodding their heads to honor each other before the heat of battle. The foreigner remained still, only moving once the drums ended their steady beat. A copious amount of men wished to challenge the newcomer to display the strength of the houses of Westeros and cow him to into submission. He allowed no such thing to happen to him, especially for people who were nothing more than mere children waving around sticks to earn fame and wealth and attention of numerous awaiting ladies.

Immediately he thrust to the man closest to him not even giving the man a chance to retaliate against the strong and swift blow. The opponent from the Stormlands made the mistake of trying to deflect the attack by holding his Warhammer in front of him and the blade, but instead it gave the foreigner an opportunity to bash the heavy shield into him and jab his short sword immediately after landing the blow. The force of the blow forced the Storm lander to reel back because not only did the shield make contact, it also pushed the weapon closer to him allowing the foreigner to disregard the weapon made to have reach over an opponent. Whether the attack can be attested to a display of skill and strength or having the advantage of surprise many pondered over but never came to a final conclusion, but what they could all agree upon was the ferociousness and skill that the foreigner showed.

His fighting style was evocative of a wolf, he engaged the opponent in close-quarters to omit the advantage of distance, it gave the idea that he completely overlooked the danger he placed himself in to achieve the goal. Just as a wolf would give its life for the sake of the pack, he would forsake himself for his goal. His speed and strength reflected his nature with an underlying shrewd and slyness.

The apparent Lord Paramount would not accept being easily beaten especially from some cunt who hid his face behind a mask. He would face _retribution_ for daring to attack a person that was stronger and more prominent than nearly all the men who joined the competition. After the shield smashed him and the blade that drew blood from his abdomen that was protected by a full metal plate, the young lord wondered how such a blade could pierce his plate so easily but remembered it looked akin to Valyrian Steel.

After being considerably weakened by the initial strike the young lord hoped to end the first conflict in a few moves to show what happens when one challenges a full-grown stag. He failed to remember that a wolf preys on stags whether the wolf is on his lonesome or in a pack. He raised his hammer and proceeded to draw an attack from his left but feinted immediately and stroke from his right. This called upon much energy to wield the hammer and redirect the momentum from such a heavy weapon but had hopes that the milk drinker would fall for the misdirection.

Such actions yielded no rewards, rather it opened him up for a short window that allowed the foreigner to once again close the gap in between them and jab his unguarded flank. It was too late for he already committed fully to the strike and tried to shield himself from at least leaving a tremendous injury. He knew he was caught into a corner and tried to make the best of it, yet no strike came. He waited for what seemed like an hour but was not even a second and all he saw was darkness.

The foreigner watched as the brute of a man tried to retaliate by executing a few simple moves that many would fall for despite age and experience. Because he was such a strong warrior and wielded a massive weapon most knew that the wielder most likely cannot perform a feint with the amount of weight. Within seconds the foreigner analyzed the strengths and weaknesses and acted upon them to show that despite being trained they never faced the true test.

Rather than risk incurring more unwanted attention for performing a killing blow and the possible chance of his attack being parried he instead chose to smash his shield into Robert Baratheon's head. The young Eddard Stark was astonished that his brother in all but blood and name was so quickly disposed. It seemed that all the training they endured through was all for naught for he annihilated the young stag in few moves that would have killed him on a real battlefield.

**Linebreak **

The white cloaks watched with apt amusement as the art of battle required more than just strength and a few tricks. Ser Barristan Selmy wanted to test his luck and skill against the outsider to determine whether or not he was truly gifted and threatening or just another person who got lucky in a single encounter. Ser Barristan strode over to the foreigner and tried to analyze who he could be and his skill, but the man remained still and calm.

The foreigner stood resolute in his position and did not charge anyone else. This confused some people, but others realized that is was a silent challenge for anyone, for words did not need to be spoken for others to see what was being implied. Ser Barristan knew that this was going to be a duel worthy of his title as rival in skill to the Sword of the Morning Arthur Dayne. He had decades of experience over the mysterious wanderer but would not overestimate him like poor Robert did instead he would coax the outsider to strike first and determine the playing field from there. His actions from the War of the Ninepenny Kings spoke of his skill and expertise in the art of battle and killing, therefore the man that no person has seen before will not leave unpunished.

Ser Barristan waited for the foreigner to strike and goad him into making a mistake to parry, but he was just as patient and had no reservations to begin the duel. Seeing that this was leading nowhere Selmy made to engage but that was when his opponent made his move. The kingsguard raised his sword to block the attack that caught him off-guard and try to follow that up with an attack of his own, but his opponent already predicted the move and dodged out of the way to conserve his stamina. Selmy was slightly impressed that the opposition committed to believing he would counter-attack because in war a battle only lasts seconds and a move such as this could have completely dictated the way the rest of the battle would continue if he so happened to make a mistake.

His bulkier and heavier armor, while protected him much more than his opponents would, restricted his movement and deprived him of some if his stamina. When he would block it would wear on him much more because he could not dodge, so he realized that this would soon become a battle of attrition that he would inevitably lose. He would have to be aggressive and fully commit to that doctrine otherwise he would be defeated, his only problem was that, based on the first attack, his opponent could match with an equally aggressive combat style.

It became a flurry as swords clashed against one another with no clear victor in sight for neither had an advantage over the other. When Selmy attacked his slash would glance against the shield or be dodged completely and made a vain attempt to land crippling blow. Selmy was growing desperate and decided to gamble for the win for he knew if he did not pull it off it would declare defeat for him; however, it could also spell out victory for him if it did work.

He swung at his opponent's soft side, usually the side with the shield or smaller weapon, in order to slide his sword downward and land a slash or jab depending where the strike glanced. He thought this was a smart move because it led with misdirection and allowed his longer sword to reach his opponent with his enemy providing the momentum to his sword and landing the strike. Instead of his opponent letting the shield bounce the blade down or into his guard he pushed it upwards and jumped to strike at Selmy's neck.

Even with his full plate armor, Selmy knew that he would have died if not for the small protection his helmet provided on his neck. That was a precision strike meant to kill almost anybody no matter skill or protection because it was the hardest place to defend without losing even more mobility and vision. His opponent was undeterred and followed it up with multiple bashes to the head with his heavy shield. He was able to finish Selmy off because he dropped his guard when he landed the attack on the neck and pursued immediately with the blunt object that would end the match.

**Linebreak**

The foreigner was pleased to have fought such a capable warrior as he was one of the few who have fought in a real war and forced to make decisions that determined the outcome of his life. He looked around him to see what other combatants were still up and fighting, just minor lords with little skill and even less experience who were not worth his time or breath. Having only fought two men, he hoped for more and perhaps if he was lucky, he would get to face multiple men at once. Alas he was not granted that particular gift with few men left to compete. He thought that his last adversary would be the last of the men still standing to unite against a common foe, instead he saw dissension among the men that reflected the nature of the people who inhabit this land.

One would think that the threat of a foreign warrior would be the pillar to unite against rather than an opportunity to rule the land over the bodies of others. Even the people from the same kingdoms displayed no such loyalty towards each other because the selfish desire of oneself outweighed the need to unify. He was brought out of his musings when a fat and tall man adorned in typical mail and leather armor with a red cloak approached him. He was genuinely amused that this man was the last fighter still standing, a fat man who did not even appear sober, but looks were deceiving.

The fat man chanted in a tongue he recognized as High Valyrian but could not quite catch the words as they were slurred together and barely spoken aloud. After that he preceded to cut his hand with the blade and then it became alit with fire. _These people have at least some knowledge in sorcery and magic. _Perhaps he was too quick to assume that they have not evolved over time and change their ways of life. That thought was immediately discarded because they wallowed in relative peace since they were conquered by the dragons. They do not know constant war and battle, nor do they care to understand other cultures to see what can be manipulated or exploited or even respected.

The fat man charged and made a quick slash towards his strong side, he easily dodged for the strike lacked skill and precision. The fat man did not stop attacking, he would weave his attacks together which was more reminiscent of a dance than a duel because of how the style seemed to be more flamboyant than deadly. His excitement quickly turned to disappointment because he hoped that mayhap the fat man in red was skilled. It was quickly noticed that he lacked skill and was only successful because of his flame trick combined with an aggressive style that batters an enemy's defense.

He thought _I could toy with him and display my skill, but it grows even more dull just to wait_. After a few dodges then parries he countered and knocked him out by knocking him on the head with the pommel of his sword. He looked around the battlefield hoping for another challenge but instead saw men laying on the floor drifting between consciousness. Before he arrived here, he studied the culture of the people and its customs and practices, so he knew to walk before the king and wait for his prize. He knew nothing beyond approaching the king and his family other than to kneel before them, but no Roman kneels before another man despite position of power. That right was held exclusively for his gods and even then he would only grant that privilege to his father.

The crowd had mixed feelings about the victor, he was from a foreign land, but he did put on a great show and deserved the prizes that were promised. The king and his family were even more weary because he appeared to have slaughtered his opponents, one of whom is an active kingsguard, and was not from Westeros. The only redeeming quality was the dragon or serpent on his chest, but it was in no form similar to the Targaryen sigil.

He approached the box where the royal family and the family of house Whent waiting for anything to happen. Lord Walter Whent stood up and declared him the winner of the melee, "What a spectacular show and what even more amazing winner. As the winner of this event you have earned the gold dragon prize and the privilege to announce your own Queen of Love and Beauty." As he announced this his brother Ser Oswell Whent strode out to hand him the wreath of flowers for him to choose the woman he loved or more commonly lusted after.

_Such trivial matters, I suppose I must choose one, but none are worth my attention. They either dream of false realties or are more pompous than even the gods. _As he was pondering this Lord Whent asked him a question that most of the crowd also desired to know the answer to. "As the reigning champion will you not let us know who you are and where you are from and mayhaps remove your helm to paint a picture as to whom is worthy of such prizes?

This question deliberated heavy thought for he if removed his helm then he would give his identity, but that would also instill chaos among the crowd. He did not look like any native of Westeros nor Essos for his people never emigrated from the lands of the empire. His appearance alone would demand questions of where he is from and the answers could ignite war. _This gives me an ample opportunity to start somewhere. _The wall may be only cracked, but if left unchecked the ocean will come crashing through.

He laid down his shield but kept his sword in hand and reached to remove the helm. The crowd was now even more excited to find out where such a warrior is from but as his face became more revealed the excitement succumbed to whispers and murmurs. Only one word came to mind to describe him, exotic. His skin looked as if kissed by the sun, but not as dark as the Dornishmen, and his hair dark as night that was seemed to be in a permanent state of being wind swept. He kept a clean-shaven beard that did not protrude much but it kept him from looking like a young boy.

His most notable feature were his eyes because they were as green as the sea. They were vibrant and alluring but also thrummed with unspoken power. He may have been able to hide his emotions from his face but never from his eyes, they were the beacons that promised hope or death. To the people who saw his face he was even more handsome than the prince himself and became the envy for all men who saw how the women would gaze upon his face.

Ser Oswell handed him the wreath while offering to hold his helmet and asked "Do you have anything to say before crowning a woman and offer a name to who will crown her?

_"__Veni…Vidi…Vici"_ It was no louder than a whisper yet everybody in attendance had heard it but did not understand what it meant. It was three simple words yet the language it was spoken in was powerful and commanding, the language of a conquerors and rulers. He announced his name louder than his revelation "Perseus…my name is Perseus." Even his accent made women yearn for him, an accentuated p that shifted into rolling r's that ended with a lull of the e and s.

Nobody had heard of such a name ever but were intrigued by the soft tone in which it came out. Perseus now needed to choose a woman to crown the wreath but saw none worth his attention. Even the more beautiful ones he disregarded for they are conceited and frivolous, but one caught his interest. There was no question whether or not she was beautiful with long hair almost as dark as his, however what really caught his attention were her haunting violet eyes that seemed to permeate a somber mood, but they hid deep cunning and intelligence. She was dressed in less garish clothing than other ladies but still held unimaginable beauty that made him start questioning if the gods decided to fuck with him.

Her haunting eyes reminded him of his past lover that caused more pain and ache to him than any flesh wound he received in battle. _Fuck it. _He walked halfway round the arena directly before her and handed her the wreath. "I crown her my Queen of Love and Beauty. Lady…?"

Her response was one filled with annoyance and slight curiosity "Ashara, Ashara of House Dayne my lord."

He muttered "I'm no fucking lord. We have razed the practice of slavery until nothing, but the ruins of millennia old empires who were shattered for such atrocities." He spoke louder to clarify who he is and what title he holds "I'm not a lord or Ser. I am much more than that, but it does not translate into your tongue that well. My title is Princeps, but the rough translation would be First Man." Despite not speaking loudly Ashara still heard, not clearly, but enough to understand what he said before his explanation. "Well then I thank you Perseus, the First Man, but would I be able to ask where you are from?"

The old worn and rough voice of King Aerys cut in and spoke his concern as well "Yes, I would like to know where you are from and why you do not kneel before the King." His slighted pride and apprehension were evident in his statement.

Perseus scoffed at the King's presumption to kneel before him "I kneel before no person other than my mother and father. I have different customs from your people and practice nothing else." _At least those that affront my pride and people._ "My motherland is a place few people aside from my countrymen know exists and even fewer know where. I sail from lands west of this continent whe–" King Aerys cut off his explanation with disbelief "There is no such lands west beyond Westeros. You speak nonsense, no person has ever returned sailing west nor have people ever came from the west.

Perseus's indignation at the king grew because of the interruption and the refusal to believe that there is a possibility of things living beyond their reach and knowledge. "There are reasons for why men have never returned and why none have arrived on your shores. The state on few occasions have accepted outsiders from beyond the territories but has never sent men to the lands beyond. Most of the time we are nothing but legends, but when one recognizes who we are…we command respect for those few know how capable we truly are." Despite his reasonable explanation many were still uncertain about his story, and they were rightly so because he had no evidence to prove what he said was genuine.

Ashara spoke with an incredulous tone "What proof do you have to sate our skepticism? Any man craven or drunk could tell the same story. What makes yours true?" He enjoyed this attitude of curiosity and bluntness. She outright discredited him and had the gall to question him as well, this was not such a waste after all. "People from everywhere but here know the legends and they speak for themselves." He extended his right arm so that the underside was present to show the image that was scorched into his flesh. The letters _SPQR_ once again with _XII _directly below it in smaller print along with the eagle carrying two laurel wreaths. The images are what informed the natives of Essos that he was speaking true, but the feature that classified him as a living legend was the horse that appeared to be winged and had a faint glow to it.

Two fat men from Essos knew immediately that the legends were not just myth, the red priest from Myr and the eunuch from Lys. Every child in Essos memorizes the tales and plays pretend just as the children in Westeros plays at being Aegon the Conqueror or Aemon the Dragonknight. Despite these two men never having a lax childhood they still remember the stories. His presence alone alerted them that his people grew emerged from silence once again and demanded blood. They could not lie about his claims because they both believed the other one would support his claim and face punishment for not believing it.

Perseus tried to hid his amusement but it was still evident in his smug grin "I see that there are at least two here that know that I am neither craven nor drunk" targeting his grin to the now confused Ashara "Speak either of you to your king and tell him that I have no need to lie." The red priest was awake for only a minute before he almost blacked out again. He trudged to the King's box to support Perseus "He speaks true my grace. Every child in Essos know the stories, but to see one in person is even greater than the story."

Aerys did not trust the word of the priest who spent many moons trying to convert him to praise R'hllor, so he turned to his only trusted advisor, Lord Varys. When the king saw that Varys slightly inclined his head, he believed the words spoken, however he was left wondering what to do with the man. He did not care for him or about him in the slightest but could be a threat, but how much power he had is what restrained him from pursuing action. He grew tired and wary, so he concluded the event "The melee is over, and I am returning to my chambers." Lord Whent stepped in to commence the end of the evening and beginning of the night "Let us return to the great hall and begin the feast and enjoy company, dancing, drinking, singing and all matters of joy and celebration.

**Please review if you enjoyed the first of many chapters. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Sea's Hunger

_Chapter 2: The Sea's Hunger_

**A/N: Thank you to those who spend time reading my story and thank you to those few reviews. I will address one concern a reviewer had about the grammatical structure. I am a Literature and Language student and write in unconventional ways especially for writing assignments. If it were a professional thesis then I would end sentences more but what I do is what the professors call weaving. It ensures that sentence structure is not always the same and flows differently, it is a certain style than has been ingrained into me for years now. I will admit that sometimes my choice of words is poor, but it is hard to make a sentence sound better with a single word. Also, the style shifts from person to person if anyone noticed, for Perseus it is much more eloquent, for Aerys it is choppy and unfocused, it reflects characters in minor ways. Still thank you for the criticism because it helps people become better writers. Just going to give a heads up for the story, of course it's going to be fucking boring, it's the first chapter what did you expect. I accept criticism otherwise no one would get better but explain why it is that way. If it sucks tell me why, don't just bitch about it. You guys are the audience I can alter stuff, but I am blind unless given direction. Also, it's fucking AU, I know that there is only a queen of bullshit for one event but it's AU. Based on that logic I shouldn't even be writing Perseus in the world because it does not match canon. Other than that, thank you for reading and I can only mange one chapter ever month and a half or so because my classes begin and my schedule sucks. Class every day at random times along with my job. If people ask me to I will write my other Percy fanfic ideas since I have already thought and planned them out but haven't written them yet. I spend more time researching and polishing out ideas to make it more immersive than I actually spend time writing. This story focuses on the morality and philosophy of humans, why we believe certain things and how other things influence us. From things like what is love (baby don't hurt me. [Sorry, I had to do it]) to what makes a man willing to die and kill for something or even more trivial actions. This kind of explores the human mind and talk about problems we deal with currently as a society. A byproduct is that it will get political but then again everything is political I just ask that you guys have an open mind because I do not write something much less believe in it without a real explanation and cause. If you read all of this then you are a gift to me, and I hope you enjoy!**

_Harrenhal 281 AC_

Lady Ashara Dayne had just finished preparing for the feast when someone knocked on her door "Lady Ashara it is me Ser Barristan. I was hoping I could have a few words with you." She thought nothing of it because he was one her brother's closest friends and was well versed in the art of speech. She went to open the door and let him "What it is you have on your mind Ser Barristan? Anything to do with my brother or is there another problem with Elia?" She was worried for her closest friend because her poor health was getting worse since she stopped getting her moon blood and was with another child.

Ser Barristan shook his head and instead explained his reasoning for disturbing her "You have no need to worry about your brother or your best friend. Arthur and Elia are in perfect health and are currently celebrating at the feast. I came to warn you about the foreigner. He is dangerous and none of us know anything about other than the eunuch and red priest." Ashara was wondering why he was telling her this when she came to the same conclusion on her own. She felt like she was being treated a child solely based on her being a woman, however what Ser Barristan said next only made her disdain him for him assuming the worst in her.

"He may be handsome but do not go chasing and laying with men who you know nothing about." She urgently threw him out of her room for such scornful words. "Do you not know me at all? You presume much in that I would be willing to spread my legs for any man who shows me attention. Leave me and do not return. You would not want to ruin your reputation for befriending a harlot such as me." He tried to explain himself, but he was both inept and lacked eloquence with words. He received to time to explain his harsh words and all he earned was the scorn of the woman he secretly loved.

He walked away in shame hoping to have a chance to reconcile with her and reveal his unknown infatuation with her. He vowed that he would make it up to her in any way he can even if it meant he had to die or kill for. Although he was one of the staunchest in his vows to the kingsguard, he would forsake them for her if given the chance. He knew that many of his brothers had lovers and paramours hidden from public eye but trusted those secrets to all the brothers. Selmy held no such qualms, the only person he would ever tell was Ser Arthur.

**Linebreak**

_Love is the death of all duty. Those were her words, one of the last few she spoke. No matter how much I loved her, I always believed she was wrong. If anything, it strengthens my resolve to continue my duty and fight for what I love and cherish. _

He was brought out of his musing when his faithful companion Blackjack nudged him. _"Percy, what troubles you? You were lost and looking at the lake again." _Percy gave his friend a sad smile "Just reminiscing. Are you well fit to carry me to the castle again? At least this time I'm not wearing my armor." Blackjack knew that his human friend deflected the question, but he already knew what he was thinking about. _"Yes, although you still owe me for that and what happened at the islands before we hit the continent. Very well let's move on and I'll be at the same spot earlier today looking for mares"_

Percy knew that his horse most likely would not be giving him a ride later today. Not many knew that his midnight black horse was actually a sexual fiend for an animal and there was no stopping him when he was in the mood. _Out of all the ones my father created I had to get the one with an appetite for anything but food, but still, I love that horse. _"Just let me finish putting on the correct attire for the evening." Rather than adapt to the customs of Westeros he adopted the style from the eastern provinces that were long decorative robes made from the finest silk depicting symbols of their culture.

Those people were one of the more respected because their culture reflected his in many ways, from the strict moral code that demanded vows to the high emphasis on honor. This robe was earned through blood and death and is priceless to anyone who understands what it represents. The garment was a testament to his prowess as a warrior on the battlefield and his cunning as a commander. It was through blood and death he earned the right to receive and wear one so expertly woven from the finest materials.

It began with the first layer that was dyed a deep rich black and wrapped his bare body to protect the garment from sweat and smell. All of the layers except for the top layer and the coat were dyed in the same process and woven from the finest silk. The pieces had large open sleeves that reaches his knee and had no separation for the legs that reaches his ankles. The second layer followed the same process but also had a thick string tied around the waist. The third layer was the final article, aside from the coat, and was a dark gold with intricate woven patterns with the thick borders having serpents flowing on a maroon piece and gold outline. The substitute for trousers was a skirt like piece that was wrapped around his waist and tied at his backside and the anterior part was brought up and tied just below his naval. The embroidered image was two serpents the color of a dark jade intertwined rising out of a sea of light jade on a backdrop of dark gold.

Tied around his waist were numerous pouches that held all manners of items; ranging from gold coins to important documents, but his wooden sheath was also tied around him. Small ornaments of jade and gold were adorned around the pouches that were valuable in both price and importance. Last was the coat that started from the nape and covered his arms and legs and had little color when compared to his top layer. It was a rich black with charcoal patterns and designs with blood red serving as the outline for the faces and eyes of serpents and demons.

His respect and honor for the culture ran deep within him because they deserved that and much more for the prowess they proved in battle. He became one of them and in turn all of them became important to him because they are now his people. He would never abandon his people even if they abandoned him.

Upon his gifts that he received he was also given a name in their language that was sacred to their culture. With the name he also earned a hairstyle that was made for only him to wear to distinguish himself from everybody else. His hair was tied into a topknot, which was a common style, but he was allowed to let his bangs frame his face. What would have been recognized as insolent and unkempt was now realized as the style allowed for only one man, one that brought honor upon his name. The hair that was tied was held together by a small crown of jade in the shape of a dragon, however the most recognizable part that made him stand out from others were the vibrant blue and green feathers adorned atop of his hair. The color was similar to his eyes and were not a hue that any artist could replicate.

_"__Hey Percy, how exactly are you going to be able to hop on, let alone ride to the castle? _Percy spoke his immediate thoughts "Well, fuck" He paused to think about his options; he could walk the few miles but then he would be a bit fatigued in his current garb or he could tell Blackjack to shut up and mount up. The decision took only a second to make. "Blackjack, just lay down so I could get on and then you'll gallop to the castle." His companion just whinnied in response _"Do I really have to? Don't be lazy, just walk. You make me run for miles and miles and all I ever get is 'thanks bud'. I deserve more for dragging your ass around. I mean who else is willing to put up with all the trouble you cause." _His rant continued for minutes with Percy not paying attention, but finally manage to interrupt and make a compromise with him.

"If you stop complaining I'll get you some sweet rolls. That sound good? I'll even through in some mead for you." Needless to say, they went immediately on the path thanks to his horse partly being an alcoholic. _That godsdamn fucking horse. _

**Linebreak**

Drinking, singing, dancing and fucking were the forms of celebration that took part that night in the hall, but the women were excited for two different reasons. The first was that Rhaegar himself was going to enchant the entire hall by playing his harp and singing. The second which was far more enticing than the former was that the foreign man, Perseus, would make an appearance. The attendees were still waiting for the last of the lords to appear the commence the beginning of the feast. A majority of the people were still outside mingling and conversing when the exotic man came riding on his horse.

Once again, he left a lasting impression on the people because of the horse he was mounted on and his clothes for the evening. His horse was large proud beast, but still held a posture and attitude of regality. His owner and him had parallel features, from the way they held themselves to the more physical attributes – both had manes dark as night and eyes alluring as the sea. None have ever seen such a majestic breed of horse nor manner of clothing but attributed that being common in his homeland.

He descended from his horse and handed him to a nearby stable boy, knowing damn well that his friend would canter off the second he was released, but that was not a problem for now. He would have to interact with these people and identify strengths and weaknesses. He knew his task, but he was also intrigued by the woman, whom he crowned earlier, who held wit and beauty but no malice. He figured he could accomplish multiple goals in a single day by performing a single action, music. Music is a powerful tool that most people do not recognize, labeling it as nothing more than a hobby or low profession. Most forget that it is an account of the culture, and accurately displays the attitude of the people. To understand a people, one must first understand the culture behind them. In that they will find what motivates them, what discourages and what can unite them. They are more than just words spoken or notes played, they are a history text that is played and not read.

The people crowded around him seeking his attention, but he ignored all of them in favor of finding Lady Ashara. It took no more than a few seconds for him to find her within the large assembly of people. He approached in hopes of having a companion to talk with for the feast to learn more about the people and possibly her. As he approached her, he noticed that she was trying to conceal a scowl and appear excited for the feast. "It appears that my queen does not wish to see me, perhaps she yearns for another man with plans to dispose of me." She was about to comment how that was completely preposterous but noticed the sly smirk on his face and decided to test her luck in the battle of wits.

She replied with an exaggerated sigh "If only he were a man able to protect from foreign heathens but had the talent and grace worthy of a prince. Surely no man exists that is willing to do that for someone like me."

"I would not know of such person; might I recommend the strong Baratheon or the silent Stark. I possess the skills but how would you treat a foreign man looking for a companion to talk to during the feast." She immediately rebuked the idea of the two men "One only knows whoring and drinking and the other only knows silence and brooding. They hold no appeal to women seeking a real relationship, despite most marriages being loveless they would not even seem to try." She scoffed at the idea of having to be married to one of them.

"My lady, you speak harsh words, be careful of what you say when the walls have eyes and ears, but your words have truth to them. One believes he is a true man for the accomplishment of buying a whore and a mug of ale, whereas the other thinks he knows true honor solely based on the image of what his family does and what they believe is right. What is wrong or right, masculine or effeminate is solely based on that person, but both of them have such distorted views. You also never answered whether or not I am worthy."

"You have yet to prove yourself, but tonight is the perfect opportunity. Walk with me." She held her arm out and guided him towards the great hall. He knew that walking with their arms encircled was bound to make a bold statement. "Do you know the consequences of what you are doing? This will encourage rumors and could start a scandal."

Her response was to give her own smirk. "Oh, I plan on making one, an audacious one at that. Come, I wish to know more about you and your people."

With an exaggerated sigh he acquiesced her demand "Of course my lady, though will you accept my humble request of you teaching me the customs and culture of this strange land." Not finding any reason to deny him she agreed "I will. Hurry we must not take our time otherwise the important seats will be taken." The pair walked to the large hall adorned with banners of the host and the king filled with men and women drinking. Many seats were open but Ashara seemed to have her eye on seats she had already chosen. "Despite this hall having many seats open you seem to have chosen one. I presume this is for mingling with lords to secure a marriage contract or the spurring of something larger."

She waved off his comment "Nonsense, I just wish to have the best seat to view the prince play his harp. You must have heard every girl gossiping about his talent and wishing to see him play. Tonight, we will be granted that wish." He grunted in response followed by a question "Do they let any man perform?"

She wondered why he would ask unless he was also a musician "They allot a period of time for anyone to try. Why do you ask? Do you play as well?"

He was silent for a moment "I know a few songs and tunes" He did not elaborate more than that. They arrived at their seats and he waited for her to ask questions about himself and decided to break her questioning stare. "Well what do you want to know?" She blinked a few times in embarrassment but quickly concealed her flushed cheeks "What is your home like? It cannot be anyplace too hot or cold because your heavy armor would slow you down considerably. Perhaps a temperate place that is neither consistently dry nor wet."

He was not too surprised that she recognized how weather dictates battles "You are correct, but when you assume too much from a single piece then you have already lost. My home encompasses many regions, from the silver crowned mountains to the ash sand beaches. I was born a in town on the coast in the mountains. Never too cold nor too hot, but what really made it special was its beauty, scenery no man could ever dream to paint on a canvas."

She noticed that he slightly lowered his guard when describing where he was from, but she continued "How are you so well trained with the sword? Some of the men you faced are the best the Seven Kingdoms has to offer, yet you finished the fight in seconds."

"Would you believe me if I said hard work and training?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes "I figured not. Anyhow, the best teacher is experience, but we all begin somewhere. I start off no different from any other person. We learn at a young age the basics of warfare and the principles of life; from there we serve our time in the legion until we age out and continue our lives", she was surprised that all boys receive military training but wondered if women learned anything "What about the women? Are they allowed to partake in training as well or are they forced to learn so called women's work? Thrown about and treated as nothing more than chattel or pawns."

Perseus enjoyed the fire with which she spoke when questioning the roles of women, he knew his answer would astonish her "Boys and girls alike receive the same basic training. They both have important roles to serve the state, but I always felt they had the more important task." She only displayed her awe for a second before she hid her emotions back behind her mask. "How so? Why do you believe that they serve a more crucial role?" She was well versed in the art of speaking, seeking more information without overtly asking for it. Even disregarding the first statement that would shock most people, but she was not most people. He entertained her questions knowing she would pay her price in the bargain. "Men are sent to the legions or the navy and fight on foreign soil whereas women protect the hearth, the home from which inspires us to fight and die. They protect the very idea and place that makes us who we are. That is why I respect them, for the ability to protect us when we are elsewhere." He knew he was giving a stranger too much information, but the it was common knowledge and he knew she would not share unless given something in return.

"Hmm. It seems that your people have a strict code and deep dedication to the land and government. How can you be so sure that they are dedicated to only your cause and follow only your command? Men are only willing to fight for coin and are less willing to die for someone than to kill for them. What makes your men different?"

He found it hard to express how dedicated a Roman is, how much they are willing to sacrifice in service, but he explained it with a powerful statement. "I tell them to jump, they ask 'how high?' I instruct them to swim, they respond 'how far?' I order them to kill, they demand 'how many?' If I tell them that they will die in battle they see no higher honor in life than to put the cause above their life and die with a sword in hand. On the blood of our fathers…on the blood of our sons, we swore an oath for _Roma _that we shall live and die for her. Any who break their oaths are traitors and are not worthy of pity nor mercy. We are Romans and this is what it means to be a one, unwavering loyalty to the people and state knowing that you may very well perish in the journey."

She felt a strange unidentifiable emotion swell in her when she heard his explanation. It was not just the words he said but the way he also stated them, they were in the only way she could describe, chilling. She was about to ask him more and possibly expand on the oaths, but she was interrupted by his question, "What of you? Will you not keep your end of the deal and reveal more about yourself and this kingdom? Or will you evade questions concerning you and hide behind lies?"

For an unknown reason she took offense to his assumption of being sly and manipulative when she knew that he gave the best two words to describe her. Usually she did not care what any man thought of her, but her captivation was spiraling to infatuation. "Of course not. You just have not asked any questions yet and I will give you the truth."

He scoffed at her "The truth is subjective, dynamic and everchanging. It embodies what a person believes it to be and challenged by others who do not believe in it. We make our own truths just as we make our own destinies. They are often intertwined with one another. I will start with basic; Why does every man seek your attention and affection? What makes you so special? Your kin possess no great wealth or land when compared to many other noble families, yet they all desire you."

"Again, I will ask, are you craven? Many men see my beauty and desire my body or are captivated by my eyes. I am not a vain person, but I do recognize what all men want, they all have the same base desires. The other reason is that my brother is the legendary Sword of the Morning wielding the fabled greatsword Dawn that was forge from the heart of a falling star." She had listed the reasons why all men fight for her; she was beautiful and had a brother a brother with unmatched prowess. All men love a woman who was gifted ample curves along with everything involving fighting.

Perseus truly wondered if he had just wasted hours of his time and effort on his part for someone who sees themselves as a gift the gods granted mortals. _Well there goes my interest. Oh, look they brought out the harp._ He sighed then he spoke "Well this had been an absolutely enlightening conversation, but I see that they have just set the instruments and I have a deep desire to play tonight." Then he dismissed himself and started walking to the harp "Save my seat thank you." She tried to call out for him, but he walked on.

It was not often when a man went to play if he was not in a troupe. Even less common for a man of noble blood to do so, but if he happened to be the crown prince then it was excused. So, when the exotic foreigner walked to the harp the hall became silent, waiting for him to play his mediocre tune and leave. They wondered if he was trying to flaunt once again or he had skill rival to the King's son.

His song began with gentle plucks of the strings into a melody evocative of what could be played for children but was mixed into an eerie tune. The introduction lasted longer than most people would feel is appropriate only because they did not like how the song made them feel. It then shifted to soft short strokes of the strings that ended with soft plucks. This was not jaunty nor was it morose, it was melancholic and bittersweet. It was a song to remember ones loved and lost but cherishing what was had. This was not a song one practiced playing for a crowd or for entertainment, it was one played to reminisce. Perseus looked both happy and sad just as love can be the greatest of joys and the most difficult of sorrows. The smooth rise of the melody that drops with a just as soft pluck that leads into an almost quiet tone of sadness caused many people to tear up. For minutes he played his song, enjoying what it made him remember, but everything in life comes to an end and his song was no different. Unlike most songs people typically enjoyed that ended with a final brandish of skills; he ended with the same strings as the beginning and its simplicity became its beauty.

There was a gentle pause between him finishing his performance to when the crowd applauded him and in some cases people openly crying. They appraised his skill with the harp and wanted to know if his voice possessed the same talent. After a few minutes of asking and him politely refusing he decided to give in to their demands.

He set the harp on the floor instead of stringing it once more and sang in his soft voice a song from a foreign land. Words that were nothing similar to the common tongue spoken within the kingdoms or even Essos.

_"__Duān duān liūliū de zhào zài, kāngdìng liūliū de chéng yō. _

_Yuèliàng wān wān, kāngdìng liūliū de chéng yō. _

_Lǐ jiā liūliū de dàjiě, réncái liūliū de hǎo yō. _

_Zhāng jiā liūliū de dàgē, kàn shàng liūliū de tā yō. _

_Yuèliàng wān wān, kàn shàng liūliū de tā yō. _

_Yī lái liūliū de kàn shàng, réncái liūliū de hǎo yō. _

_Èr lái liūliū de kàn shàng, huì dāng liūliū de jiā yō."_

Despite the crowd not understanding any of the words they felt the emotion with which he sang. Almost as if he were singing about a past lover but sang in a tone for soothing a child to sleep. Everyone felt the raw emotion he sang with and applauded his performance. Many demanded another song, but he declined wishing to rest for the remainder of the celebration. He debated leaving early back to his camp but knew it would be a long walk considering his horse was most likely occupied with another mare at the moment. Before he could find a solution, he was grabbed by someone and sooner than he can protest or act the person began ranting at him.

"Why did you not tell me that you could sing?" She was more irked that he withheld the information more than his skill or talent itself. She felt that he deceived her when she had asked if he could play. He responded dryly "You did not ask. I said I know a few tunes and songs." His little spat with her was garnering attention from people in the hall so he leaned in closer "If you wish to continue this conversation and fulfill your end of the deal, we must either sit down or leave. Believe me, I am more inclined to leave than listen to you bellow at me. So, choose what you must."

His patience was wearing thin given the situation and wanted nothing more than to relax in a hot bath with no disturbances. He made to leave without Ashara and instead of being tugged back to his seat his arm became intertwined with the young maiden. She offered an excuse, flimsy as it was, to leave the hall moments before the crown prince began his own performance. "Would it trouble you to walk with me through the gardens or the godswood?" He accepted knowing that either way he managed to leave the hall without any more intervention. They walked in silence to the godswood knowing that most of the people would be watching the king's son play the harp. After the short walk Perseus observed his surroundings and made sure nobody would be able to listen to his conversation.

He had a sufficient amount of information with his goal in mind but wanted to coax more out of the local inhabitants. He allowed himself to appear riled up to influence Ashara in giving more information to give a better impression of herself. Playing with emotions is one of the most efficient strategies to gain information – whether that be through anger or pride or even lust. What a person gives to receive speaks volumes of who they are as a person.

He began with wanting to learn of the volatile political landscape the seven kingdoms currently found themselves in. "What are your thoughts on the current king? Am I to believe that he tortured and murdered the noble families after the incident at Duskendale?"

He began with odd questions, but she was more than willing to answer. "He began well enough, but his paranoia blinds him. The defiance of Duskendale gave him even more reason to suspect any of those who wish to be close with the crown. And although he did torture the family, he executed them. Not murdered. He was well within his rights as the sovereign king to execute those who have conspired against him." Perseus himself believed that only the person who actively planned and the executed the scheme should be punished. A vendetta is held against the person who committed the crime, not the people with whom they live. Of course, he knew that such measures were required to pacify a group of people, but this was senseless as the rebelling lord begged for mercy.

"What of the lords paramount? I have heard interesting rumors of him slighting the lord of the north and his own hand Tywin. Even more interesting is that the prince has taken an interest in the wellbeing of the kingdom suddenly. Has he finally moved on from his books and singing to learn of the burdens of the common folk?" The answers did not matter so much as how she answered them. It did not require much to learn of the displeasure the crown has caused in recent years, but how Ashara stated it determined how much discourse there could be. "He has made a mockery of his once childhood friend and slighted the north by disregarding their pleas for assistance. The prince is trying to make amends with the lords but cannot openly clash words with his father. Why do you seek such knowledge, especially from me? I am the daughter of a minor lord who lives at the mouth of the river leading to the ocean?"

An interesting development; The prince usurping his father's authority while trying to appear the loyal obedient son, very interesting. That was another whisper of a possible rebellion within the kingdom. A simple deflect of her questions that held truth and lies. "You have said it yourself, your influence lays with trade. The amount and style of trade speaks much of your father which also reflects the king. What he allows to be traded, how much of the goods and how much of a tariff. Any complaints of how trade is conducted in Dorne? After all what can a daughter of a minor lord do if she is not allowed to pick up a sword?" Strike a question at her pride and she will tell anyone all that she can do. "I am not just a piece to be bartered or gambled for. Even though I help my father deal with the logistics, I also secure contracts and determine if they are worth the risk to purchase. Contracts can build alliances and your word is stronger than steel when convincing a potential partner. Finding out who they are with phrased questions and making sure that they give information they are not willingly giving out. That is who I am, not just a piece in a game."

Oh, how wrong she was, but that was not the pressing matter at hand. What is important is that there will be an open rebellion soon. There seemed to already be alliances forged, but what would be the catalyst? No matter he would find a way to hasten the rebellion even if it required many lives, he must obey his duty. "Well it certainly is enchanting to meet a person as captivating as you, but I feel that I must return to my lodgings and prepare for tomorrow. After the joust in the evening I plan on riding to the port."

She was disheartened to hear that he was leaving so soon and tried to persuade him to stay with her longer, "The northerners say that the old gods' spirit resides in the heart of the Weirwood tree. They watch over us, protect us, give us guidance and warn us. They will forever listen as much as the earth herself all the life she provides for." Perseus did not like the reliance on their supposed old gods "When people begin to rely on a deity for direction and clarity, the kingdom has lost itself. The gods have no role or purpose other than to fill their own needs. If their needs happen to align with the peoples' then they will assist the mortals. No matter what deities people worship, they are all the same beings with similar personalities. The providing earth mother, the eternal blue sky and the boundless sea are the only celestials that provide for us in this life."

The more he spoke the more she was intrigued. The conversation began as a subtle interrogation delved into an embracing and friendly discussion. She soft asked, "Who do you worship? You seem to hate the idea of any divine being. It appears that whatever being I pray does not answer my pleas to help my friends, family or even the common folk. Are people free where you live? Can they travel where they wish whenever they please? Choose any profession and be free of obligations they are born into?"

When he gazed at her faced, he noticed that her eyes were even more sad as if she realized that despite what she could accomplish, she would only be a woman to provide an heir. He spoke of how freedom has a large cost, "Freedom is never free, my people are given everything from the labor of those who constantly protect it. Everyday they face danger but are willing to die if it means a single child has the chance to grow up doing as they please. My ancestors dealt in the practice of slavery and build the foundations of a republic, but like them it was razed to the ground. From the ashes of a republic was born an empire."

She saw that he spoke strongly against slavery again. While she knew that it was a horrid practice, she did not understand why he spoke his ancestors with such abhorrence. "I know the men of the north despise it because their people are always taken. Why do you feel like you have personally fought it? I understand that no one should ever be bought and sold but why do you feel that it is so wrong?" The answer to her question began with his parentage "I am a son of the sea. I grew up with a deep connection to the sea and the water is very much like a person. Able to mold itself anywhere it is placed. Small in a single glass but an unstoppable force when a collective. Most importantly is cannot be restrained. To restrain the will of the sea is a crime against nature itself. It is blessed the gift of choice and will and to remove those gifts from a person is an affront to the highest nature. As a son of the sea it is my job to ensure the water is always in motion and never stagnant."

He spoke with such fervor about protecting everybody's ability to choose that she simple infatuation was growing stronger. His moral compunction to lay down his life to protect someone else's is something only heard in the false tales of gallant knights. She never once believed them, but he was the perfect embodiment of one. He did not speak of those things to appeal to people or bound to a family's code, no, he spoke about them because he was dedicated to his words. She leaned in closer and was pleasantly surprised of his scent – a slight saltiness attributed to walking along the shore and a mellow sweetness mixed with spices. She tilted her head up to try and kiss him and enveloped herself within his arms. She was shocked to learn what he tasted like, a salty caramel ball or a piece of candied honey. His scent, taste, voice and appearance were more intoxicating than any wine she has ever drank and sated all her previous desires. She deepened the embrace but interrupted to move it to her chambers "Let's continue this elsewhere. I have never felt this way towards someone before, but you take my breath and heart away"

That surprised Perseus because they have only known of each other for a few hours and spoken even less. She was professing her love for him, but they do not even know each other and to be physically involved would be a grievance to both him and her. He conceded to her silent request for a kiss but did not guarantee anything more than that. He could also never forget his love even after all these years she perished. She would never leave his mind and it hurt to even try thinking about loving another woman after her.

He pulled away from her and gave her an apology "I'm sorry but we cannot continue this, I have to return to my lodgings. Your brother or other lords could learn of us and that would cause much more trouble than we need." Despite his interest in her, it hurt more to try to move on than it did to replace the love lost. She did not accept that would not yield to lesser concerns. "Let them see us or hear us, I do not care. But if you cannot indulge me tonight can you offer me for something tomorrow" He nodded in acceptance and headed towards the entrance of the godswood and the exit of the castle. _If only my horse would actually do his godsdamned of being a mount and giving me a ride. Fucking ingrate. _

_Harrenhal 281 AC – The next day _

The cries of the crowds and trumpets announced the beginning of the jousts that would declare the winner on the final day. Percy was terribly bored watching men ride horse at each other armed with wooden spears they called a lance. Men knocking other men over on horseback. Some northern men here, some dornish men, they were all the same in this uninteresting sport. He was drifting between consciousness until the people began roaring with excitement for the final bout. The kingsguard Barristan Selmy was facing his friend young the prince for the gold dragon prize and the honor of naming a noble woman their queen. Ser Barristan lived up to his appellative, Barristan the Bold, by charging strong towards his ward. The young dragon would not take the attack so kindly as others before him rather copy his moves and charge.

If Perseus thought this final match would be any more interesting than the others, he was wrong. Rounds passed and the minutes dragged on and nothing of particular interest happened until the winner was chosen and his prizes gifted. The son of the mad king barely beat his protector but applauded his skill and talent. Lord Whent announced crown prince Rhaegar as the winner and asked him to crown his queen of love beauty. Many if not all thought that he would crown his wife, whom he shared a child with, but he turned from the royal booth to the retinue holding the northern lords. He gifted the crown of flowers to the young Stark daughter instead of his Martell wife.

Perseus could not help but howl with laughter at the sight, the man the kingdom depended on openly disgraced his own wife for a young girl a decade her junior. Such open shame would lead to rumors of adultery and mistresses. Perseus despised any form of adultery because it meant that person was not loyal and did not care for the commitments, but he could not find anything more amusing than this comedic play of love. Perhaps it was his lack of entertainment or possibly the blatant show of a lack of tact. Everybody began whispering possible rumors and some were offended for the humiliated wife. Lord Whent decided to call for the end of the event and spend the last day of the tourney feasting.

The crowd started walking towards the palace, but Perseus headed in the opposite direction to look for his companion and ride to the river. The sky was a myriad of colors for the sun was setting at dusk, but the darkness approached ever closer to the land bidding its time to be released. He would have to search through the forest to find his mount, but his connection to equines would help in his pursuit. As he was about to make it to the tree line, he heard a woman shout his name.

"Perseus! Perseus! Wait!" He groaned as he knew only one person would call for him. It seems that she would be stopped in her hunt for passion and information. His kindness caused more than needed stress and problems. "How can I help you Ashara? Did you need something?" She said one sentence that caused more trouble than he could have imagined, "Take me with you." _Oh, how the gods have decided to continuously fuck me. Everything no matter how small always has more problems. _He tried to discourage her by reminding her of her station and commitments to her family. "And what of your father? Or your brothers? You decide to discard everything for a man you have known for two days. I could be a killer; I could rape you if I wanted. You know nothing. Aside from that the journey will be long and I likely will not see my home for many years. You will add time to that journey, and I do not like my time on unproductive pursuits."

She rebuked his arguments "My family will understand what I did. If I was not born a girl then I would be a prized son, but the gods sought cruel humor on my father. For once I would like to be free of the burdens of rearing my brothers and be a piece to be traded. If not for me then for my family, will you offer anything to help me. I have practice with a sword and have the knowledge to survive in the deserts and mountains." Perseus knew that anything he said in opposition of her request would be ignored and so he decided to give the Daynes a small condolence. "I will accept you, but you will listen without question. I have survived more battles than you have winters. I understand and practice war and if you want to be better then you will follow my instruction. You will hate me, but then you will listen more. I will be cruel so that nothing will happen to you. Accept all of these terms then I will agree to your naïve and foolish quest."

She had hoped for a more welcoming reception, but she was not going to turn down this invaluable gift. "I agree. What you give my family for me leaving?" He did not respond instead searching through his items and pulling out a pouch. He unwrapped the pouch and revealed a block of jade with a scaled animal resting atop it. As the family of a trading city she knew the price of that gem, "I have only seen that type of rare ornament once in my life. A man dressed in attire similar to yours yesterday and said he sailed from lands beyond the entirety of Essos. People well versed in trading know the value of what you are giving my family. Why do you gift my family such an expensive item?"

He explained how it was not a gift and more of a seal of authority and promise "Most men from Essos and beyond know that when they gaze upon that seal they are protected by my people. That seal holds more power than any sword or coin of gold. It is not to be flaunted or disregarded, it will open opportunities for them later but as of now it is entrusted into their care. Give that to your friend the queen or your brother to send back to your father. Tell either of them to show no one unless they are certain it a person for Essos. Go. Pack your things we leave immediately." She nodded and rushed off to pack for an adventure and new beginning.

_Along the King's Road's near the Trident – A few Hours Later_

After tracking down an inebriated Blackjack who was closer to unconsciousness than sobriety, Perseus and Ashara were traveling north to meet at the mouth of the three rivers. No small talk was warranted as he did not have idle time to prattle, but he abruptly stopped his gallop almost colliding into Ashara. She began to demand why he did so but was interrupted, "Percy! What are you doing? I almo-" He hissed at her to be silent. "Quiet! There are riders ahead of us and they are talking."

They silent stalked the unknown riders until the unnamed men stopped in an open clearing. As Percy and Ashara crept closer he recognized the armor; the metal and cloaks as white as the glaring sun and same pattern of scales found on snakes. The other man had hair as white and bright as the man's armor but was dressed in even more brandish apparel. The crown prince and one of his kingsguard miles away from the palace speaking in hushed whispers. He only caught a few words "_She is part of the prophecy … re and ice … no matter the … north will be ready for war." _As he was processing this information, his riding companion decided to make herself known. "Arthur! What are you doing out here and why are you speaking of Lyanna Stark?"

_Why do I always get fucked over? Just once I would like something to go right. _

**AN September 2: My professors yeeted my holiday away and decided to gift us essays**

**Another AN: Just wanted to apologize for taking over a month to update. I have a crazy fall schedule with classes almost every day and at random times. That's what I get for aiming after two degrees. Imma give you guys some insight about problems I'm facing when writing about technology in this world. So, there is no reference for a time period in the books, but it seems to be late medieval ages based on the tactics used for war, the style of armor which is full plate for the wealthy, architecture and other commons things in the late age. In real life artillery had been used for ages but really became popular because of king Henry the whatever number he was, but I don't remember artillery ever being referenced in the books, given I have not read them in a long time but do not remember anything resembling artillery. Also, oil as a fuel source has been dated back to ancient China but the actual engine used is a fairly recent discovery. I feel that war makes humans progress technologically faster as I once read "Necessity is the mother of innovation and desperation is the father. War provides for both" If a people is in constant war or at least accept the idea that there will never be peace then they have to keep innovating otherwise they lose the advantage. This is also a world where Perseus's gods will be relevant and have more interaction with humans based on the fact that they are roman. I feel this embodies the Roman culture. This same mindset is shared with other cultures around the world that will also be referenced and used in the story, one being the Japanese. Their strong commitment to their daimyo and glory in death are close to the Romans. Many different cultures that have a similar idea will be used because it is close to Perseus's ideals only, he takes it much further. Shout out to you if you figured out what type of garb Perseus wore this chapter (A Japanese kimono based on the imperial dresses worn by the emperors of China) and to the song he singed that my professor taught us, Kangding Qingge or Kangding Love Song. Just wanted to give a heads up in case you feel that I should not include more modern things. The only modern thing I would include is heavy artillery and maybe a dreadnought style ship. Perseus after all is a son of the sea god and he would have the need to expand what he feels is the most important aspect of war. After all ships move troops and equipment and can provide support in many different roles. I'm leaning towards not doing it but have yet to decide, anyways, Thank You! (Pssst, I borrowed one of my favorite quotes from halo and there will also be a major action scene next chapter and pinyin is a bitch to type like I already have the characters on my laptop but I have to copy and paste for the fucking tone marks). **

**Ayyyy lemme go fuck myself by not sleeping before the five classes I have today. ****_It is now the afternoon of September 3. I have three fucking lab classes right after one another for two hours a piece. _****Just lemme bitch about this. I will post the next chapter within a month a half. **


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